Shakespeares Trollop Page 0,67

my fingers clenched into fists.

"Did you hear the news?"

Gardner was standing on the front porch, blowing on his hot coffee.

"What?"

"Old Joe C Prader died."

"He ... died?" So that had been the reason for the requestioning. Now that the arson was murder - despite Joe C's age, surely the fire had caused his death - the investigation would have to intensify.

"Yep, he just passed away between one breath and the next while he was in the hospital."

As I'd anticipated, I'd lost another client. Shit.

I shook my head regretfully, and Gardner shook his right along with me. He thought we were both deprecating these terrible times we lived in, when an old man could have his house burned around him. Actually, I thought, if Joe C had lived in any other age, someone would have done him to death long before this.

Gardner strolled down the steps and stood beside me, looking around at the silent street, the night sky, anything but me.

"You know, they ain't got nothing on you," he said, so quietly someone a foot away from me would not have heard. "Jump just took against you, I don't know why. No one said they saw you in any backyard with any gas can. You saved that old man's life, and it ain't your fault he died of the fire. Nothing wrong with you, Lily Bard."

I took an uneven breath. "Thank you, Gardner," I said. I didn't look into his face, but out into the night, as he was doing. If we looked at each other, this would be too personal. "Thank you," I said again, and got into my car.

On my way home, I debated over calling Claude. I hated to intrude on his time with Carrie. On the other hand, they'd be married for years, and a few minutes' conversation now might save me some unpleasant encounters with Jump Farraclough. He wouldn't have tried to scare me into saying something foolish if Claude had been aware of his purpose.

Now that Joe C was dead, his estate would be divided up. I found myself speculating that the half-burned house would just be bulldozed. It was the lot that was worth so much, not the house. The arsonist had just taken a shortcut to eliminating the factor of the house and its stubborn inhabitant. Possibly he hadn't intended Joe C to die? No, leaving a very elderly man in a burning house certainly argued that the fire-starter was absolutely indifferent to Joe C's fate.

Once home, I hovered around the telephone. Finally, I decided not to call Claude. It seemed too much like tattling on the kids to Dad, somehow; a whiney appeal.

Just as I withdrew my fingers from the receiver, the phone rang.

Calla Prader said, "Well, he's dead." She sounded oddly surprised.

"I heard."

"You're not going to believe this, but I'll miss him."

Joe C would've cackled with delight to hear that. "When is the funeral?" I asked after a short pause.

"He's already in Little Rock having his autopsy done," Calla said chattily, as if Joe C had been clever to get there that fast. "Somehow things are slow up there, so they'll get him back tomorrow, they say. The autopsy has to be done to determine exact cause of death in case we catch whoever set the fire. They could be charged with murder if Joe C died as a result of the fire."

"That might be hard to determine."

"All I know is what I read in Patricia Cornwell's books," Calk said. "I bet she could figure it out."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked, to get Calla to come to the point.

"Oh, yes, forgot why I called you."

For the first time, I realized that Calla had had a few drinks.

"Listen, Lily, we're planning on having the funeral Thursday at eleven."

I wasn't going. I knew that.

"We wondered if you could help us out afterward. We're expecting the great-grandchildren from out of town, and lots of other family members, so we're having a light luncheon at the Winthrops' house after the service. They've got the biggest place of us all."

Little touch of bitterness, there. "What would you like me to do?"

"We're having Mrs. Bladen make the food, and she'll get her nephew to deliver it to the house on Thursday morning. We'll need you to arrange the food on Beanie's silver trays, keep replenishing them, wash the dishes as they come into the kitchen, things like that."

"I'd have to rearrange my Thursday appointments." The Drinkwaters came first on Thursday; Helen Drinkwater